Egremont’s speech in parliament on the presentation of the national petition created some perplexity among his aristocratic relatives and acquaintances.  It was free from the slang of faction—­the voice of a noble who had upheld the popular cause, who had pronounced that the rights of labour were as sacred as those of property, that the social happiness of the millions should be the statesman’s first object.

Sybil, enjoying the calm of St. James’s Park on a summer morning, read the speech with emotion, and while she still held the paper the orator himself stood before her.  She smiled without distress, and presently confided to Egremont that she was unhappy, about her father.

“I honour your father,” said Egremont “Counsel him to return to Mowbray.  Exert every energy to get him to leave London at once—­to-night if possible.  After this business at Birmingham the government will strike at the convention.  If your father returns to Mowbray and is quiet, he has a chance of not being disturbed.”

Sybil returned and warned her father.  “You are in danger,” she cried, “great and immediate.  Let us quit this city to-night.”

“To-morrow, my child,” Walter Gerard assured her, “we will return to Mowbray.  To-night our council meets, and we have work of utmost importance.  We must discountenance scenes of violence.  The moment our council is over I will come back to you.”

But Walter Gerard did not return.  While Sybil sat and waited, Stephen Morley entered the room.  His manner was strange and unusual.

“Your father is in danger; time is precious.  I can endure no longer the anguish of my life.  I love you, and if you will not be mine, I care for no one’s fate.  I can save your father.  If I see him before eight o’clock, I can convince him that the government knows of his intentions, and will arrest him to-night.  I am ready to do this service—­to save the father from death and the daughter from despair, if she would but only say to me:  ‘I have but one reward, and it is yours.’”

“It is bitter, this,” said Sybil, “bitter for me and mine; but for you pollution, this bargaining of blood.  In the name of the Holy Virgin I answer you—­no!”

Morley rushed frantically from the room.

Sybil, in despair, made her way to a coffee-house near Charing Cross, which she knew had been much frequented by members of the Chartist Convention.  Here, after some delay, she was given the fatal address in Hunt Street, Seven Dials.

Sybil arrived at the meeting a few minutes before the police raided the premises.  She was found with her father, and taken with him and six other men to Bow Street Police Station.  A note to Egremont procured her release in the early hours of the morning.

Walter Gerard in due time was sent to trial, convicted and sentenced to eighteen month’s confinement in York Castle.

VI.—­Within the Castle Walls